Genius
by chocolate rules
Summary: A genius? Him? A genius? That wasn’t right. John looked between Mr. Davidson and his son. Was he serious? PreSeries.


**A/N: I wrote this after that episode where Dean showed his homemade EMF device, _Phantom Traveler_. I think that it was absolutly rude of Sam! I found this along with another fic in my email, weird place to find it I know. So here it is and enjoy. I think by this I am continuing my one shot strike.! lol. ;-)**

**No beta. No ownership. No nothing. Feeling so poor :'( LoL.**

Genius

By: chocolate rules

* * *

Dean sat perfectly still like he had been instructed on the waiting chairs out side of the principal's office. That lasted all but three seconds. He got up and started pacing the hall. When that wasn't enough, he risked walking further into the school and looking through classroom windows. 

He couldn't figure out why he was in trouble this time. They had been there, in that town in that city, for a total of four days. Four. He couldn't of done anything yet. He'd spent most of that time looking after Sammy. He had actually been good. He'd gone to school cause he had to walk Sammy there and he couldn't leave the child alone. He'd been good and taken them test that schools like to give the new students to see how much they've learned. He'd even been so good that he hadn't lashed out at his math teacher after she had the nerve to wake him up to ask him some stupid question that no one ever cared about. And yet, here he was waiting for his father to arrive so that he and the principal could 'talk about his future'.

His future? Yeah, like the principal had any idea what his future had in store. He had no freaking idea what he'd have to do to have a future. He had no idea what it took to be a Winchester. He had no idea the amount of training he'd undergone and the things he'd seen. His future! His future was killing every evil son of a bitch that dared cross his path. He knew that already, but the school system never understands.

He slowly retreads back to the chair he'd been confined to for the past ten minutes. He was very patient. Waiting for a punishment that he had no idea he had committed sucked!

John Winchester arrived just as Dean sat back down and the door opened for them.

"Good! Ms. Jeffrey told me you'd arrived. Let's go inside now where we can talk privately." the principal, Mr. Davidson said. He motioned for John to followed him, but it was Dean who stood up.

"Oh, no! I won't stay out here with people going around talking about me. Tell me whatever it is I did. Then, I'll find a way to fix it." Dean's face was set, determined. John nodded to Dean but before he could say anything to Mr. Davidson, they were told okay and to take a seat inside.

Both Winchesters took a chair and Mr. Davidson walked over to the other end of the table where his seat rested and sat down. Then, he looked up at Dean and smiled, turned to John and began talking.

"Sir, as you may be very well aware, we tested your sons upon entrance to this facility. Well, we have just received back Dean's scores and …I'm pleased to inform you that your son is a genius."

Dean let those words sink in. A genius? Him? A genius? That wasn't right. So, Dean did what Dean does - and started laughing.

John looked between Mr. Davidson and his son. Was he serious? Dean a genius? I mean, sure the kid was smart, instinctive more like. But Dean was not a genius. He found himself chuckling along to Dean's laughter.

If anyone was a genius, it was Sammy.

"Are you serious?" Dean said in mist of his laughter.

"Yes, Dean. You scored in the 98 percentile in those exams we gave you."

"But, I'm not a genius! I'm like the opposite." Mr. Davidson shook his head.

"No, I'm afraid it's you. And not only that, you have the potential to be doing college level work right now. So, the reason I called you in this morning, Mr. Winchester," he turned to look at John now who listened closely for any hint of comedy or that all this was a lie. "Was to tell you of how you can push Dean ahead and actually enroll him into a local college and allow him to continue his academic career with a challenge."

"So…Dean's like super smart?" Mr. Davidson nodded. "And can go straight to college now?" Again, Mr. Davidson nodded. A wide smile crept his face. "But what would the use of that be? I mean Dean's not even in high school yet. Sending him out into the so-called real world? For what? To challenge him? It's enough of a challenge to get him up and here every morning."

"Perhaps, this is why. If the materials being thought here are way too easy on Dean, then he'd feel bored and get distracted and clown around. Challenging him would provide for him with an opportunity to fine tone his learning skills and actually learn something while he's at it."

"So, wait…I'm too smart for this school? Then, why the hell go to school at all?" Dean asked. He had stopped laughing when his father had begun talking. He hadn't wanted to be rude. Now, he sat on the edge of his seat. In his young, thirteen year old mind, this meant he'd be able to stay home and never worry about school for as long as he lived! His only worry would be Sammy.

"Not, exactly Dean. You are too smart for the materials you'd be taught in this school, yes. I'm afraid, however, that at the age of thirteen you still have to, by law, attend school." Dean hung his head and looked defeated. There goes his short-lived dream.

"How exactly is it that he's a… a genius?" John asked looking at his boy. Thinking about how that wasn't even remotely a possibility. It couldn't be.

"Well, no one really knows how these things happen. The test we gave him is used to determine the comprehension ability in a child. It's like an IQ test. It measures his understandings with materials he would learn in school and also connects it to the real world. It helps determine how well equipped a child may be for certain levels of capability."

"And, Dean scored high on this?"

"Yes. Extremely high." He looked over at Dean and smiled down at him. "You should be very proud of yourself."

"What's the point?" Dean shrugged. "I mean it'd be great if it meant that I never had to go to school another day in my life, but you just said that wasn't the case. This would actually really suck!"

"Why is that?" Mr. Davidson asked. He wished that he himself could be as smart as this kid's scores said that he was.

"Well, the only reason I even come to school is because I have to walk Sammy here. He likes school. I hate it. But I wouldn't leave him here alone you know what I mean? I have to be near by. To protect him."

"Ah, yes! You're younger brother, Samuel Winchester." Mr. Davidson said. He looked at the files on his desk and pulled out another one. He looked up at John and smiled again. "You're younger son scored remarkably well, too. Way above his age level. But with children so young, you can't really classify them into categories."

"What did he score?" Dean wondered. He was more curious about Sammy's testing them his own. He hated tests. And it wasn't that Sammy loved them, but he got them. He wasn't nerved by them and he rarely ever had to study for them. Dean didn't study, he was too lazy and between school and hunting- hunting always won. Dean still scored well, he'd get As and Bs in tests. It was just that he never did any homework or projects or reports or worksheets or well, anything. He never spent enough time in one school to care enough about how this would impact his future. No, wait. Scratch that. His future was hunting. Like his father. And his father didn't need As to know what Dean was capable of.

"Same, 98 percentile. It's very rare to see siblings score in the same range…"

"So, what we like cheated or something?"

"No!" Mr. Davidson said with a soft smile. "You two weren't even I the same room. And you didn't receive the same test. His involved more pictures, shorter stories, that kind of deal. But it's under the same basis."

"And how does this test show they're smart?" John asked. How the heck did both his sons turn into geniuses? He could see Sam, but Dean. Dean never showed any form of interest if it didn't involve a hunt, his brother, the crazy music he listened to, or his fascination over classical cars. He was even starting to find a great deal of interest in girls, but never school.

"Well, there's a 200 question multiple choice packet that they had an hour to complete. Both of them finished, that's rare in itself. The questions are very tricky. Sam got one question wrong. Dean got three wrong. And then there's an essay type questions where they have to write at least a page on a specific question. Out of 8 points, Dean got all 8 and Sam scored a 7. The average is 5."

"Cool, I'm a genius?" Mr. Davidson nodded. Glad the boy was seeing how this was a good thing. "And Sammy, too?" Another nod. "Well, that part was obvious. Then why isn't he here?"

"Well, for one, the fourth graders have a guest speaker today and it's one of the few fun things that they get all year. I figured why take him out of that. And secondly, like I mentioned before, he's still too young to have these things be taken serious. At his age, he could have guessed. Though, seeing the boy, I don't doubt that he is."

"Yeah," Dean said nodding. "He is."

"So? What do you want us to do about Dean, then? Take him out of here?"

"YES! Yes, take me out!"

"No, sorry Dean, I was willing to recommend the local community college or high school courses. Also, we could place him in the Gifted and Talented program we have in this school, but that's more of an activity than a learning program."

"I should just go home." Dean said seriously looking towards his father.

"No, just leave him in the regular classes. We don't spend nearly enough time in any region to have him in such programs. Just get him through the eighth grade." John said. His voice was commanding and Dean's happy nature slummed. Mr. Davidson would have argued with any other parent about how bad it would be to restrain your child. Luckily for him, he had a feeling that talking to Mr. Winchester would do no help in the boy's progress.

"But it'd be more of a waste of time than it already is, Dad. This way, at least we know I wouldn't be missing anything." John looked over to Dean and glared at him. His eyes told the boy that there had been no room for discussion.

They left a few minutes later. Mr. Davidson had given John the boys' results and had tried to start on telling John how much more the boys would progress with grander opportunities, but all this was lost on John. He thanked the man, they shook hands, and he motioned for Dean to follow him.

Outside of the principal's office, John rounded on Dean about how defying him wouldn't take Dean nowhere. He also reminded Dean about how one of the important reasons he made both boys go to school. One of course was because he was getting fed up with having cops continuously telling him how his sons should be in school when they where on a hunt with him. Another reason was because he took comfort in knowing that for six hours his sons were hauled into one location and he didn't have to worry as much about them as he did on the weekends or at night when they had to stay alone wherever they where staying.

Dean was sent back to his class, sulking. But his father wouldn't hear any of it. So, he sat for the rest of the day pissed that he had been told he was too smart to be there just to be thrusted back into it. That's the problem with being smart, too many people hating on you. Dean did however find comfort in looking over to the 'smarter' geeky-looking kids and mentally taunt them. _I'm smarter than you are. I can be in college. I'm smarter than you are. And you don't even know it.

* * *

_

Hours that seemed like eons later, Dean stood on the street corner and awaited the skinny, sandy-haired fourth grader that was his brother.

"Hiya, Dean!" Sam said running to him. He stopped right in front of him and gave him a huge smile.

"Hiya, Sam." Dean replied back mockingly. "What's got you so cheerful?"

Sam shifted on his heels, thinking whether or not his brother would really care. Deciding that Dean always cared he piped right up.

"There was this guy, right, and he came to our class, ok, and he was like _super _cool Dean, you would have loved it!" Sammy said, hopping uncontrollably up and down. Dean rolled his head as he reached his hand out, which Sam took instantly.

"So, this _super cool_ guy, what he'd do?" Dean asked as they started to walk towards their apartment.

"He was like a doctor or something, I don't know. He cut people up and he had all these hearts and lungs and other guts and junk. And some where healthy, those were practically always pink. Then there was the one's that were of sick people and those were like black and joke. It was so gross!"

"But, you liked it, right?" Dean asked him as they stopped at the corner and waited for the cars to pass.

"Uh huh. He was cool." Sam was watching as a few birds flew from the phone wires and into a tree. He wondered if there a bird's nest in there and if there were any eggs in it or worms and stuff.

Dean watched the traffic until it came to a halt. Then he tugged on Sammy's hand, pulling him away from his thoughts and they crossed the street.

"So, you looked at guts and junk all day. Cool." Dean said. _I wish _I_ could have been _there

"Yeah," smiled Sammy.

They walked to their apartment five blocks away and to their apartment building. They lived on the third floor and were pretty much the only kids in the entire building, unless you counted Scotty on the fourth floor, but he was around three and glues to his momma, so you don't really count him.

Dean was actually pretty surprised that their father wasn't there. He hoped that he hadn't gone off to another hunt so soon after finishing the last one and really hoped that all he was doing was research.

"So, Sammy, you hungry?" Dean asked as they set their things by the table.

"Nah, they brought us mad pizza cause that guy was there. He said that the pizza would go straight to our system and we'd die of colesstrails." Sammy said as they walked into the small kitchen and hoisted himself onto the counter.

"Cholesterol," corrected Dean. He made his way to the refrigerator and peeked in to see what he could steam up. Dean was actually a damn good cook, having started at the ripe age of six with small things like toast and cereal. His Daddy couldn't handle the toaster and Dean had laughed at him and so John had challenged him with a 'Think you can do better, Ace'. And he had, so Dean kept his family fed ever since. At least Daddy could make sandwiches.

"Yeah, but then Mrs. Tyson said that that wouldn't happen cause we're little kids and all. So we all had a ton of pizza and soda and chips and junk."

_Well that explains that hyper talk all behavior, _thought Dean. Everyone since Sam was at least three and could handle solid foods – three because Dean found it easier to feed him softer things and cereal before then – had felt the wrath of one hyperactive little kid. Usually, the only things that calmed him down were a time out or Daddy holding onto him real tight until he chilled. Both took a while to set in though.

"Dean, my tummy hurts," Sam said as an after thought and Dean rolled his eyes. Sam was like an endless tank and no doubt could eat an entire pizza pie by himself. Now, Dean was the same way and always hungry, but Sammy's stomach didn't seem to agree wit the kid most of the time.

Sammy hoped off the counter and rushed into the bathroom where he sat on the tiles looking at the toilet until he felt the need to barf. He did that even if he didn't barf, which he seemed to always think would happen. Dean would only follow him if he noticed that the boy looked slightly pale.

A few minutes later, Dean had a Mac&Cheese running, and surprise surprise Sammy was hungry so they sat and ate. Then, as Sammy cleaned up Dean set about starting his homework.

Dean sat at the table there, staring at his science work without moving to do. Sammy had joined him now and was working hard on his history homework in careful cursive. Dean looked at his work, glanced over Sammy's and then noted something, not only _did_ he know all this, but Sammy seemed to too. Sammy breezed through his work and was soon going to be pestering Dean to go and play.

Dean hated doing his work and often wound up not dong it. In their last school, he had spent two weeks without doing one piece of homework. He had figured that he had gotten away with it, almost thinking that they had final reached an academic system that didn't seem to care one way or another what he did or didn't do.

Needless to say he was very much in shock to find his father not only angrily waiting for him, but he seemed to be equipped with all the work that Dean had neglected placed into folders divided into their classes. And so, that weekend found Dean finishing up all his work for half credit and on Dad's last nerve so he had to watch out and not do anything else bad.

Now he wondered if all along he had neglected the work because it was too easy for him.

"_Dean_." said Sammy interrupting his thoughts. Sam was now looking up to him and had a look of such great curiosity in his eyes. "'member what Daddy said." He added nudging his head towards Dean's work.

Dean too looked over at his work before turning his entire body away from it and towards his kid brother.

"Sammy, why do you do it?" he asked him. Sammy looked at him like he was insane.

"Do what?"

"School and stuff. Why do you do it? Why do you care so much?"

"I dunno," Sammy replied with a shrug. "Cause Daddy says so and all the teachers say so."

"That's it? That's the only reason you do it?"

"I dunno, I guess. Why? Why do _you_ do it?" Sammy asked not really sure where this conversation started or where it was going, but things rarely worked that way when it came to Dean.

"_I don't_. Remember? That's why Dad was so mad. Cause I never do any of my work and stuff."

"So, do it." Sammy said with yet another shrug. Seriously, how was it that his arms didn't fall off?

Dean opened his mouth and was about to tell Sammy what had happened that day but he stopped.

Sammy understood that world. Learning and reading and all that junk. That was Sammy; well ever since he learned to do all those stuff. Sam was like a sponge and he loved to learn and observe things. He asked questions at a mile a minute. He _wanted_ to go to school. This might actually crush the kid.

"What?" Sammy asked no doubt sensing all the thought waves that over took his brother.

Dean turned back to his work and picked up his pencil. He didn't need this, didn't want to do this, but he didn't need Dad to hassle him about it either. Their father had taken to checking that Dean's work was in fact done every night that he was home once he figured out that just because Dean said he had done it didn't mean that he had.

John arrived home a few minutes after eleven. As he was opening the door he was slightly pissed off that the boys weren't in bed because it was way passed their bedtimes, even Dean's.

He entered the living room only to find both boys very much out. Dean was laid out on the couch, Sammy asleep on him, a blanket over both of them. A Kodak moment, he thought with a small grin. How Mary would have loved this.

He carried each boy into their bedroom. When he picked up Sammy, the boy's reaction was to curl into the carry never stirring. Likewise, when he placed him in the bed, Sammy just curled into a ball in the center and clutched the blanket once John covered him. When he picked up Dean, the teen stirred and opened his eyes once ion the hall.

"Dad? Wha'r 'ou'doin?" he slurred.

"Shhh," replied John as he placed him in the bed which he had already slipped the covers back off. Dean was watching him through sleepy eyes. John covered him too and walked over to the door. He turned back, Dean still watching him. "Night Einstein." He said with a wink.

Dean rolled his eyes and flipped onto his stomach, hand instantly going to the 12in e kept under his pillow. The one that Dad thought was actually his 8in, something about him cutting his head off with the 12in. he heard the door click shut and he closed his eyes, sleep overtaking him once more.

* * *

John made his rounds of the small apartment, all the windows were locked and the front door was locked. The salt lines were all set and the charms were in place. Then, John went over to the kitchen for something to eat. He made himself a sandwich, not like there was much of anything else even if he _could_ make it. With two sandwiched and a glass of milk in hand – Dean had done the grocery shopping and couldn't buy beer, not that he would even if he could – John walked over to the table. He wasn't surprised to see Dean's homework laid out there for his inspection. He had told the boy that he would no longer tolerate his conduct regarding his academic work. Dean had been pissed, but he was thirteen and it was expected. 

He was, however, surprised with the note attached to it.

Reading it, John shook his head, glanced back to the door that hides his precious boys from view. He took the note and crumpled it, tossing it into the trashcan. He then flipped through the papers in front of him. The very last one was completely empty; math Dean really hated that subject. It also held an obscene message and John wondered if Dean was checking him to see if he really did check over his work. He picked up the pencil, replied the message, and placed in second from the top; sure that Dean would check it in the morning.

He took his meal to the living room and settled himself in front of the TV, the note still in his mind.

_Dad, about today, Sammy's never to know. What would he do if he was the genius of the family?_

The End.

**I hope you enjoy this, cause I loved writing it! I feel like justifying him! So, plz review.**


End file.
